


I'll Cheer You Up

by Fledgling



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fledgling/pseuds/Fledgling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ratchet tends to get down sometimes, the vorns of war catching up to him. However, Wheeljack is always there to comfort him, no matter what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Cheer You Up

Because they were at war, Ratchet tended to get sad. And because Wheeljack was his lover, it was his duty to make him happy again.   
Sometimes, Wheeljack was able to catch it early, before he got too bad. He would drag him off to some secluded corner of the base, push him against the wall (or the floor, the berth, anything stable really) and ruffle his plating a little. It got his mind off things, and made him happy. Sure, some might call it a low blow, but it’s not like they didn’t both enjoy the heck out of it.  
Then there were other times. The times when they were dragging one of their number half dead through the ground bridge, or when the nightmares came back and Wheeljack wasn’t around to hold him close and help him fend them off. Those were the time when Ratchet stalked through the base, murder in his eyes and wrench clenched in his fist. Those times, Wheeljack was forced, much against his will, to watch from a distance as he worked himself out. He always stayed close by though, both to restrain him if he got too violent and to comfort him if he fell apart. It was his job, after all.  
But then, there were the in between times. While Wheeljack loathed to say, he did enjoy it, despite the fact that it was caused by his lover’s distress.  
The in between times were the ones where, the mission kind of bombed, they got a little roughed up, or maybe Ratchet was having a nightmare. Like now, for example.  
Wheeljack had been propped up on one elbow, contently watching the medic recharge (something that had become a habit over the vorns). And it was NOT creepy; he just enjoyed seeing the medic finally relaxed. Or at least, he WAS relaxed.  
It had started with a small twitch, under his left optic. Wheeljack didn’t think about it too hard; he had been gently stroking the medic’s face, it could have easily been a reaction to that. However, the twitch soon came again, this time his whole face moving to form a wince. Wheeljack had stared, his relaxed mind not quite picking up in the signals until it was too late. Ratchet had jolted, crying out and flailing his limbs, nearly knocking Wheeljack from the berth.  
Which now left Wheeljack trying to wake him up. Not an easy task when the good doctor thought he was being attacked. Mindful of the arms, Wheeljack maneuvered them until he was able to get an arm behind and under the terrified mech. He wrapped his over arm around his waist, then with a quick but careful movement pulled him until he was splayed on top of him. Wheeljack grunted as he was hit repeatedly, but refused to let go.  
“Shh, easy doc. I got ya. No one’s gonna hurt you.” He cooed, stroking down his backplating in slow, firm movements.  
Ratchet whimpered, his frantic thrashing slowing to a stop. His optics slowly powered on, dazed and dim with the remainder of recharge. He looked around, finally looking up at Wheeljack and resetting his optics.  
“Wheeljack?” Ratchet asked, in a quiet voice that showed how scared he still was.  
Wheeljack smiled, one servo moving to cup his face, rubbing under an optic with his thumb. “Yeah, Sunshine?”  
Ratchet opened his mouth, then closed it just as abruptly. After a moment of hesitation, he ducked his head down, hiding his face in Wheeljack’s neck. He wrapped his arms around his chestplates, shifting around to get comfortable. Wheeljack obliged, moving backwards so that he was propped against the wall behind the berth so that Ratchet could settle between his legs. The ambulance curled up, pressing against him tightly and tightening his grip on his chest. Wheeljack easily got the message: hold me. The Wrecker rested his chin on top of his helm, rocking back and forth in small movements and letting his engine purr. The medic immediately started to relax, his body relaxing and optics dimming until they were offline again. His engine rumbled back to Wheeljack’s before quieting as he fell back into recharge.  
Wheeljack sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of his helm. Sure, he didn’t like Ratchet being distressed, but this? This was worth it.

When Ratchet woke up the next morning, he had simply stared at Wheeljack. Wheeljack stared back, idly stroking his backplating.  
“Mornin’ Sunshine.” He greeted, pecking him on the lips.  
“Wheeljack…” Ratchet started, but was silenced with a firmer kiss. After a moment, Ratchet pushed against his chestplates, pulling away and giving him a look. “You’re distracting me.”  
“Yup.” Wheeljack replied simply, kissing him again. Ratchet groaned into the kiss, pulling back again.  
“You can at least wait until I apologize!”  
Wheeljack looked at him, confused. “Apologize? For what, last night?”  
Ratchet nodded, looking away embarrassed. Wheeljack sighed, catching his chin and turning the medic to face him again.  
“Listen, Ratchet. I love you.” When Ratchet looked up at him with wide optics, mouth open and ready to protest, Wheeljack cut him off. “I do. There’s no denying. And, because I love you, it is both my job and my pleasure to give you comfort when you are distressed. Besides, I enjoy getting to hold you.”  
Ratchet stared at him like he had grown a second head. “You… you really… love me?”  
Wheeljack nodded, smiling. “Every second of every cycle. I thought you knew that?”  
“Well, I, I hoped, I mean I-“  
Wheeljack cut him off with another kiss. “Shh, don’t rattle your plating Doc. That’s my job.”  
Ratchet leered at him. “Oh yeah?” He leaned in close, servos resting on his chestplates. “Prove it.”


End file.
